


Sing Me to Dawn

by FridaChen



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers, The Pianist (2002)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:26:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29392638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FridaChen/pseuds/FridaChen
Summary: It's a story about Gilbert(prussia) and Roderich(Austria). Music is the language of the world!
Kudos: 1
Collections: Hetalia AUS





	Sing Me to Dawn

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yly/gifts), [ZY](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=ZY).



> I'm not a native English speaker, so there may be mistakes in wording and gammar. Please feel free to point out my mistakes!

Sing Me to Dawn  
Sing to me, until it dawns on me.  
Fan-friction  
Based on Axis powers ヘタリア and inspired by the book  
AU

Lili Marleen  
Vor der Kaserne, vor demgroßen Tor  
stand eine Laterne, und steht sie noch davor,  
so woll'n wir uns da wiedersehen,  
bei der Laterne woll'n wir stehen  
wie einst Lili Marleen,  
wie einst Lili Marleen.  
Unserer beider Schatten sahn wie einer aus,  
dass wir so lieb uns hatten, das sah man gleich daraus.  
Und alle Leute soll'n es sehen,  
wenn wir bei der Laterne stehen  
wie einst Lili Marleen,  
wie einst Lili Marleen.  
Schon rief der Posten,  
Sie blasen Zapfenstreich,  
es kann drei Tage kosten Kam'rad ich komm sogleich.  
Da sagten wir auf Wiedersehen  
Wie gerne wollt ich mit dir gehn,  
mit dir, Lili Marleen,  
mit dir, Lili Marleen.  
Deine Schritte kennt sie, deinen zierenGang,  
alle Abend brennt sie, doch mich vergrass sie lang.  
Nun, sollte mir ein Leid geschehen,  
wer wird bei der Laterne stehen  
mit dir, Lili Marleen,  
mit dir, Lili Marleen.  
Aus dem stillen Raume, aus der Erde Grund  
hebt mich wie im Traume dein verliebter Mund.  
Wenn sich die spätenNebel drehn,  
werd' ich bei der Laterne stehen  
mit dir, Lili Marleen,  
mit dir, Lili Marleen.

——Lyrics of in German

Chapter 1 Midnight  
“Help…” moaning. It’s Auschwitz. Feet shake desperately in the air, then stop. A man dies. It’s an endless process here. Blood drips from the beam, from where the man is hanged. A soldier comes, takes the dead man off, causing the string to make a high sound, sadly announcing a new death. It’s a piano string, unfortunately being used to hang people to death. Gilbert Beilschmidt is watching, as he always does. He is sucking a cigar, pretends to be enjoying the atmosphere in this dark, small basement full of ghosts died of unrighted wrong. Though he never actually pays any attention to it. Known as “the demon”, he thinks the world——with endless wars, hunger, illness, and so on——is what it was meant to be. What Hitler says is right. Long live Hitler. Born with white hair and red eyes, Gilbert was called “the son of demon” when he was younger. It’s Hitler who announced all Germans are noble, including Gilbert. He fights fearlessly, and he has become a general. No one dares to mention his abandoned name “the son of the demon”. Instead, they call him “demon” for his stone-like heart. Maybe he likes the name, but even he himself doesn’t know it exactly. He doesn’t care. Life is eating, sleeping, fighting, and that’s enough. Another prisoner is taken in. Unlike the previous muscled man, he is rather slim, seems can be flown away by wind. “Who is he?” Gilbert asks. “Edelstein. Roderich Edelstein, sir.” The soldier answers. Gilbert knows well why this man is here. Unable to work, he is surely recognized as so. Edelstein, means jewel in German. A beautiful name in an ugly era. With glasses and black hair, this man is just like a fine jewel, looks like a young master rather than a Jewish prisoner. Now, his eyes are full of anger. Gilbert stares at him through the smoke of cigar, waiting. Roderich finally says,” It’s a piano string.” “So what?” Gilbert raises one of his eyebrows. Roderich glares at him, unable to believe, as if what he is going to say were too obvious to ignore. “A piano string is used to play music, not to kill. It is used for beauty, not cruelty.” “You know music?” “I’m a musician, sir.” Gilbert makes a grim smile. “Then, I hope you can enjoy my music.” He yells, “Give me a groom!” The soldier obeys. Demon can easily put him to death. Power doesn’t need any logic. Roderich just watches, confusing, as graceful as a young master. Gilbert holds the handle in his right hand, with his left hand knocking on it. He sings, “Wie——einst, LiliMarleen.(As it was before, LiliMarleen)” He changes the tune, making it broken and unsmooth. His voice is husky. This song famous for preventing the soldiers to fight is changed into an army song. Gilbert is waiting, waiting for Roderich to strips off his mask of upbringing. But Roderich lets him down. He does get furious, saying “MUSIC IS NOT LIKE THAT, stupid sir!” Sir. Gilbert has to admit that Roderich is a true noble. He is disappointed, but soon finds a new way to make fun of Roderich. He wants to bring the noble down. “Take him out. Don’t let him die so early.” He orders. And don’t let him live well, he thinks to himself. Roderich is out. Another prisoner is in. The endless process continues. Nothing has changed.

Chapter 2 There is no night so thick…  
Something has already changed. Gilbert finds himself notices Roderich more than any other prisoner. Life now means one more thing, watching the young master acting as a servant. But he never acts LIKE a servant. He is always gentle, graceful, and lonely. Auschwitz is usually full of rude words. Languages are in their simplest ways, only to tell, not to express. Among those frustrated prisoners, Roderich is unique for his calm attitude. Being sad instead of angry, he never shouts, never robs, thus never gets enough food to eat. He is pale as chalk, thin as a skeleton, like a ghost who is wandering in this hell on earth. Gilbert has no idea why Roderich is so special to him. It’s not normal. He almost doesn’t care anything. The only thing he paid attention to was his brother, Ludwig, who now refuses to fight for Germany. Though he uses the past tense, he knows well he still cares. Gilbert doesn’t understand Ludwig, just as Ludwig doesn’t support him. Ludwig seems abnormal, for following Hitler is normal for most Germans including Gilbert. Long live Hitler. He finds it no need to think about more. The road to power is paved with madness, not useless wisdom. Follow Hitler, thus he will be able to bring a bright future for Ludwig, for Germany. He always appears to be so regardless to everything that his fellow soldiers never even imagine he has a brother. However, Ludwig is still in his heart. “It is wrong.” Ludwig said. The radio was playing LiliMarleen then. The singer was singing in a low, attractive voice, “Mit dir(Be with you), LiliMarleen.” Gilbert has forgotten what he was thinking. Only a light sense of sadness remains to remind him that on that rainy night, he lost his brother. Not physically, but mentally. From that day on, he has become a demon. He wants to bring victory, to prove he is right, to win his brother back. He hates LiliMarleen, not only because it was heard the night Ludwig left, but also because its tune brings regret rather than passion. Gilbert has tried to forbid the song, but everyone keeps singing. Therefore, he changes the tune to make it an army song. Gilbert did so to comfort himself, yet no one is comforted. He shakes his head, chasing the thoughts away. It’s already lunchtime. He sees Roderich again fails to rob enough food. Gilbert can easily tell that Roderich is dying. He suddenly feels discouraged. He turns around, and leaves.

Chapter 3 …As the darkness before dawn  
Days passing by, Gilbert notices one more thing about Roderich. He is often seen singing with fingers tapping on something——on a table, a window, or something else. He must be an excellent pianist before, Gilbert thinks. But here in Auschwitz, everything changes. As winter approaches, cold weather together with hard work takes away his voice, making it husky and weak. His fingers seem numb and frozen. Constant hunger weakens him, and he is ill so often that doctors appear to be reluctant to heal him. Soldiers talk about this young master as a joke, and Gilbert laughs. Roderich is not that kind of person who can survive through the war. Gilbert feels pity for him, but he won’t do anything. No one has the power to fight against the destiny. “Wie einst, LiliMarleen.” The song flies through the window once again, still weak but touching. Roderich is accelerating his death. It’s not the first time Gilbert found this young master who sticks to his own style sometimes annoying. He fights back. “Mit dir, LiliMarleen.” He shouts, which certainly makes Roderich furious.  
“You are out of the tune, stupid sir! Please be serious about art!” Soldiers come, drag Roderich out of Gilbert’s sight. They are laughing, so does Gilbert. “Kesesesese…” But something in his heart is missing. What’s that exactly? Gilbert wonders. He remembers that Ludwig, too, always told him to take things seriously. He somehow becomes frustrated. He turns on the radio. It sings, “Wie einst, LiliMarleen.” He doesn’t turn it off. He comes to realize the reasons why he hates the song include his loneliness. “Mit dir, LiliMarleen.” He stands up and leaves the office, wandering aimlessly. It starts to rain. Fighting, eating, sleeping. He desires for something more. Roderich is back to work. He comes up for him. Just for fun, his hand approaches Roderich’s face. It’s all skin and bones. Roderich seems very tired. “How long does it take to dawn on you?” He whispered. “Then sing to me, until it dawns on me.” Gilbert leaves in the drizzle. Auschwitz dims with a grief for no reason. Gilbert doesn’t want to take it seriously. He goes out of the gate, and walks towards the bar, hoping that beer will bring everything back to normal.

Chapter 4 Aurora  
That man who does not believe that each day contains an earlier, more sacred, and auroral hour than he has yet profaned, has despaired of life, and is pursuing a descending and darkening way.

When Gilbert comes back, it’s already late in the night. Loud army songs played in the bar laugh at his tear. Others talk and talk, leaving Gilbert drinking alone in the crowd. He is surrounded by loneliness. Would Roderich feel the same? Fingers tapping on the table, Gilbert wonders. The tune flows into his head. “Wie einst, LiliMarleen.” Is that what Roderich thinks, during dark nights after endless work, during new hopeless days after sleepless nights? The beer is cold. Alcohol brings something he didn’t expect. Old memories with grandpa and Ludwig, nightmare of army life and dead bodies lying in blood. They just flood into him. Yes, Germany is losing the war, though Gilbert never admits. His loyalty to Germany has urged him to kill thousands of people, men, women, as well as kids. They lay dead, far away from their loved ones. Maybe so does himself. He lies dead in others’ hearts. He has become a demon whose stone-like heart has driven away ones he loves, including Ludwig. Rain is pouring down heavily, each drop is tear of sorrow. Gilbert isn’t using an umbrella. It’s all right. Just let the rain wash everything away. Auschwitz should have slept, yet it’s not the case. A shadow is wandering slowly with his head down, eyes fixing on the ground. Gilbert has seen many scenes like that. Someone risks his life to go out at night just to find a little to eat. What surprises him is that this shadow is Roderich. It’s hard to believe this proud young master would do this. Maybe Gilbert has achieved his original goal to bring Roderich down. However, he doesn’t feel happy at all. Roderich moves slowly, into an abandoned house. There is no food in it. Its roof is broken. Gilbert supposes that Roderich would get out of it soon, but he is wrong. He stays there, and music begins. Gilbert remembers that there is a piano. A long-broken one. Its strings drowned with water, each sound is deep and low. He recognizes the tune. . Does roderich come here just to play the piano? It can’t be true, for a man who is so close to death can’t risk his own life just for art. But actually he is not sure. He does not want to search for an answer. It’s more beautiful if the mystery is left unclear. “Sing to me, until it dawns on me.” Gilbert walks closer, listening carefully. The tune is broken at first, gradually becomes smooth. Wet strings vibrate, for beauty rather than cruelty. “A piano string is used to play music, not to kill.” Roderich said that. He plays and plays, acts as if he himself is a part of the piano, putting his emotions and passion all into it. He sings, “Mit dir, LiliMarleen.” Notes come from his broken throat, steadily. He sings. Rain pours down violently, chorusing. “Wie einst, LiliMarleen.” Time itself seems to be listening. He sings nonstop, he sings a lively tune, he sings for love. He sings as if he were not in prison, but as free as ever. He sings as if there’s no war, no pain, no Auschwitz. He sings as if he had forgotten himself. There’s nothing but music. He plays on, he plays countlessly many songs, many of which Gilbert doesn’t recognize. But Gilbert finds himself crying, for joy rather than pain. Sing to me, until it dawns on me. A new day breaks. The rising sun chases away the dark clouds and the rain they drop. It dawns from the eastern sky, decorating it with gold, yellow and blue. The first ray of sunshine comes through the broken roof, reflects on the water, breaking it into gold and silver. Everything seems sacred. Roderich sits there, with sun shining on him, like an angel from the heaven. He is coming to an end if a song. Only one note is left, the highest one of the piano, high enough to wake a sleeping soul. It should be a perfect show, ended with a pure sound, as high as heaven itself. However, the last key doesn’t make a sound. Everything keeps still, waiting something to happen. Roderich falls on the piano. Something that has always supported him disappears. Tens of keys are struck together. The chord takes the place of the note. And it ends the song. Roderich is tired out. He is dying. Gilbert doesn’t know what he is doing, but he rushes into the house, holds Roderich in his arms gently, and runs towards the hospital. It suddenly dawns on him why the last key is silent. The string under it has been taken away to the basement to hang prisoners to death, for it’s the finest. He, Gilbert, himself did it. Stupid. Stupid. You are totally an idiot! Run, run faster! Gilbert can’t understand. What did he do? Roderich should have a perfect performance. He should live! Mit dir, mit dir(be with you), please. Gilbert begs, he prays. For beauty rather than cruelty. 

Chapter 5 Light  
Roderich survives. And Gilbert has changed. He is doing his best to improve the living condition in Auschwitz. He is not a demon anymore. Germany fails, and Auschwitz is liberated. Gilbert is taken to the court. There is a trial he has to get through. Roderich finally wins his dawn, yet Gilbert is left at dusk. Outside the court, people are cursing German soldiers, cursing Auschwitz. He sees Roderich among them, quiet as usual. Gilbert is taken in, waiting. He gets a number, No.13. A number for demon. It serves him right. He doesn’t wait for a long time. It’s his turn. Before the judgement could say anything, a tune flies into the room through the open window. It’s Roderich. Just like that rainy night not long ago, but with a fine piano. A woman with a pink flower decorating her brown hair, stands up. “I am Elizabeth, in the name of my husband Roderich Edelstein…” Gilbert doesn’t pay any attention. “Wie einst, LiliMarleen.” Elizabeth finishes. Another stands up. And sits down. Up, and down. Up, and down. It seems never to end, so is the music. People with brown hair, blonde hair, grey hair or black hair pass before Gilbert, talking. He sees Ludwig among them, arguing. There is people speaking everywhere, but to Gilbert, it seems a silent movie with only piano echoing. “Mit dir, LiliMarleen.” Mit dir. He waits, until the last note comes. Gilbert becomes anxious, he wants Roderich to have a perfect show, after so many years of war. The note is there. As loud as it should be. Everyone suddenly becomes silent. And they clap their hands, as they do at a concert. “To save one life is to save all mankind.” He hears the announcement, “No.13, Gilbert Beilschmidt, cleared of any crime.”  
[I am not very sure whether this happy ending is realistic. After all, Gilbert is a Nazis, he is demon. But this story is a bit private, Gilbert is like Schindler to me, I really want a happy ending for him. And I have promised to a friend that I will write a story at the end of which Gilbert will survive. So it is. I hope you can all enjoy the happy ending.]

Postscript:  
Hello, this is Frida here. Thank you so much for reading this story! This story is really special for me, for it’s my first novel in English! Since I’m a Chinese, the vocabulary and grammar may not be so accurate, please feel free to point out my mistakes!  
It’s based on APH, the book , and my own understanding of history and friendship. At that time, I had some disagreements about whether to take things seriously or not with my friends. They tend to agree that sometimes we needn’t care so much about some things which I think are very important. (Words fail me to express myself…)  
Anyway, we imagined what we would do if we were soldiers in Germany during the World War II. Some of my friends admitted that they would probably become a Nazis, while I think I couldn’t follow Hitler whatever happened. But I have to say I would be afraid to fight against Hitler. I may escape, I may go to America… So we went to a conclusion that there may be three kinds of people: the ones who drift with the current, the ones who fight against the destiny, and the ones who escape. These actually match with the three characters in this novel. Gilbert follows Hitler, Ludwig escapes, while Roderich fights against the destiny. By the way, when choosing the characters, I came up with a sentence by which we describe the relationship between Roderich and Gilbert: We are like water and oil, which can’t solute with each other, nor part with each other. (Are there any grammar mistakes? I’m not sure…)  
It took me several months to revise it. I know it’s not perfect, but I did work hard for it. I hope you can all enjoy it. And at the end of this postscript, I’d like to express my sincere thanks to my friends who have inspired me to write such a story. Thank you very much!


End file.
